Black Lily Broken
by princessangelita
Summary: The sequel to Black Lily.  If you haven't read Black Lily, you're probably not going to understand what's going on here.  Rated for the same stuff as the first . . .
1. Chapter 1

**A House of Wax Fanfiction:**

***SUMMARY: **The sequel to BLACK LILY . . .

_Katrina . . . _The House of Wax has been destroyed and Katrina Roseau Sinclair has been taken from Ambrose without knowing Vincent's fate. Believing him to be dead, she must use every ounce of her wit to survive . . . pregnant and alone with a past that's come back to haunt her. Can she find a way to ensure the safety of herself and her unborn child?

_Vincent . . . _With his mother's legacy gone, his home destroyed, and his pregnant wife missing, Vincent Sinclair only has one purpose in life: finding Katrina. Even with Lester's help, the task seems impossible. Will he be able to find her before she is lost to him forever . . . or will she remain only a memory?

_Robert . . . _He has hated his sister Katrina since they were children, when Robert Roseau realized that his mother loved her best of all. He's made Katrina's life a misery in the past, but it is nothing compared to what he wants to do now. Will he get the revenge he seeks for his father's death and the loss of his mother's love?

_Nick . . . _He and his sister were the first survivors of the House of Wax and its horrors. While trying to recover from the nightmare, he finds himself drawn to the quiet, pregnant Lily Sinclair, whom he wants to help. Can he convince the troubled girl to forget her past and make a new future . . . with him?

***RATING: **M for mature themes, such as gory violence, abuse, strong language, and sexual scenes.

***DISCLAIMER: **I don't own the House of Wax or its characters. I am only using them for a little fun . . . please don't sue!

**Black Lily Broken**

**By**

**Princess Angelita**

**Chapter 1: **_Lily_

Katrina Sinclair sat in the back of a police car, her forehead pressed against the window. Beside her, Nick Jones shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her with a strange mixture of concern, worry, and curiosity. His twin sister Carly Jones sat in the front next to the policeman, silently staring out of the window, her injured finger tapping against her scabbing lips.

It had been three days since Katrina, Nick, and Carly had been taken to the Mead Hospital. Three long days in which Katrina had to sit through medical examinations and police questioning. She refused to talk to anyone, her mind racing to figure out a way to get back to Ambrose. The only good thing that had come from her being in the hospital was that she had learned her pregnancy was progressing normally and the baby was healthy.

The policeman who was driving the car that was taking them to the station to make a formal report of what had happened tried to engage her in conversation but she ignored him.

"She doesn't talk," Carly said.

"We've been calling her Lily," Nick said, his eyes still on Katrina.

"It's a damn shame she's so traumatized," the policeman said softly, glancing back at her through the rear view mirror.

"God only knows what those freaks did to her," Carly murmured.

Katrina resisted the urge to punch the girl in her face and contented herself with daydreaming about the punishments she wanted to inflict on her. Her tired blue eyes stared at the stone building that served as the Mead police station as they pulled up to the front door.

Nick jumped out quickly and held the door open for her and she accepted the gesture, even though she hated him. The pregnancy was hard on Katrina's body, especially after the traumatic experience she had just lived through. All three of them looked apprehensively at the building as the cop led them inside.

Once in the room where they would be questioned, Nick pulled out chairs for both girls, and all three took seats at the table. A few moments later, a man came in, introducing himself as Detective Mark Anderson. He laid a tape recorder on the table and sat opposite the others, a serious look on his face.

"This interview will be recorded," Detective Anderson said, pushing the play button on his tape recorder, "and I need each of you to state your full name."

"Nicholas William Jones," Nick said immediately.

Katrina glanced over at him, as his tone sounded as if he was a pro at dealing with policemen. She noted his uncomfortable posture and decided immediately that the young man had been arrested before.

"Carly Amelia Jones," said Carly, frowning at Nick.

The detective looked at Katrina, waiting for her to say her name. She stared down at her hands, refusing to say a word.

"She doesn't speak," Carly said.

Katrina kept staring at her fingers, wondering why the girl took it upon herself to talk for her. _"It's not like we're friends,"_ she thought. She closed her eyes as the detective began asking questions, beginning with how Nick and Carly ended up in Ambrose. It wasn't until they told him what had gone on in the House of Wax before they melted that Katrina actually began paying attention.

"We were down in that workshop, where Vincent created the wax people," Carly was saying, "and we saw Dalton in this wax shower sort of thing. It was like Vincent had just waxed him. Nick tried to get him out . . . but . . . but . . . his . . . his _head _broke off. We couldn't do anything else, because Vincent came in. Nick and I fought him off, and Nick overturned a great vat of boiling wax in front of him so he couldn't follow us."

"It just sort of burst into flames, like an inferno," Nick put in.

Carly nodded before continuing. "Anyway, we ran upstairs . . . that's where I saw . . ." She began to cry into her hands.

"Who did you see?" the detective asked.

"Wade. Wade Thompson," Nick said angrily. "He had already been . . . been . . . waxed. He was sitting at a piano. His face was half chopped off."

"Chopped off how?"

"From his cheek, down to his jaw. You could see all his muscle and half his teeth. Part of his lips was cut off as well . . . like someone had just swiped it off with a knife," Nick said, putting a reassuring hand on Carly's shoulder.

"And then what happened?"

"We went into another room, and that Bo guy was standing there."

"I thought you said you had shot him with arrows."

"I did. There was still a broken piece sticking out of his body, remember? We told you we watched him force Lily to cut it off!" Nick explained, exasperated. He shook his head in wonder. "It was creepy, you know, like nothing could stop him."

"Then Nick attacked him," Carly said quietly, staring at her brother. "I tried to help, but Bo knocked me out. When I woke up . . . it couldn't have been more than a few minutes . . . Bo was strangling Nick. Nick pushed the arrow further into Bo. But somehow Bo pulled a knife on Nick."

"That's when you were stabbed in the right thigh, correct?" Detective Anderson said.

Nick nodded. "Yes. I fell backwards, and Carly hit the fucker in the face with a bat."

The detective turned his attention to Carly. "How many times did you hit him?"

She turned red, looking down at her injured finger. "I don't know," she said softly. "I just kept hitting him and hitting him . . . and then he just stopped moving."

Katrina bit on her tongue to stifle a sob. _"So that . . . that is how he died . . ."_

Carly swallowed hard, her eyes streaming tears.

"What happened next?" the detective asked calmly.

"That Vincent freak came in, and when he saw Bo was dead, he went after Carly with a knife," Nick said. "They went upstairs."

"I tried to tell him it wasn't his fault!" Carly cried. "I tried to make him realize it was Bo who was the freak. He was an artist! He didn't want to do those things, I could tell! But I could see that Bo ordered him around, that it was Bo's fault!"

Katrina put her fingers on her temples, trying to stifle her cries. _"It wasn't! You don't understand at all!"_ she screamed in her mind. _"We all liked killing . . . and this is our punishment for our sin."_

"This is getting to Lily," Nick said, glaring at the detective. "She shouldn't have to listen to this shit."

"It's necessary," the detective said. "Maybe it will convince her to tell us her side."

Nick looked furious. He glanced at Katrina with pity.

"Go ahead, Carly," Detective Anderson insisted.

She shot a sad look at Katrina before continuing. "Vincent came at me with the knife. I tried to run out the door, that's when Nick tackled him. I fell down the stairs. I heard Nick calling for me, so I hurried in. Vincent's mask was off; he was trying to kill Nick. Both his hands were on the knife, pushing it down. I did the only thing I could do . . . I pulled the knife from Nick's leg and I stabbed Vincent in the stomach. Nick pushed him off, and Vincent fell through the floor. The wax was melting everywhere . . . we fell through the floor as well. But we fell onto the side, not into the pit of melted wax like Vincent did."

Katrina felt like a knife had been stuck into her heart. _"Vincent . . . you're truly gone forever."_ All hope that he had been alive was washed away with Carly's words. _"He could not have survived both a stab wound and drowning in wax. He couldn't have. There's no way. None."_

"And Lily must have been a victim as well," Carly finished, motioning towards Katrina. "I'm sure she was raped or something. We saw her there in the town. Once, when we were at the church, she was standing on the porch of that awful house. When that Bo guy walked into the house after Nick shot him, he yelled for her. She came down looking really scared. He made her try and pull out the arrows, yelling at her the whole time. Later on, when Vincent was there, he told her to get upstairs. He was really mean about it, and he locked her in her room. I'm sure she's been victimized by those people, and terribly."

Katrina glanced up, noticing Nick's eyes on her. She quickly looked back down at her fingernails. _"They were angry . . ."_ her thoughts screamed out. _"You shot Bo . . . how could anyone talk kindly with two arrows poking out of their body? And Vincent, he was so worried for both Bo and me . . . now he's gone, gone forever."_

"You already told me all this and I'm sure she was," the detective said, staring at Katrina with a pitying tone. "Especially since the doctors have found bruises and deep bite marks all over her body. Anyway, in her current condition, we think the best place for her is a hospital or a stay in St. Anne's."

"What's St. Anne's?" Nick asked.

"It's a place where she can be cared for. She may have had a psychotic break, and since she's pregnant, it would be dangerous to allow her to leave our custody. She may need special help. In any case, she's in no condition to care for a child."

Katrina felt rage boil inside her, yet she kept her thoughts to herself. She knew that she had to get away from the police, but for her to suddenly start talking would look suspicious. She couldn't take the chance of the police finding out who she really was. _"I just wish they'd stop talking as if I weren't here! What do I do? What the fuck do I do?"_

"What did she say her name was?" the detective asked.

"She didn't," Nick answered his eyes on Katrina. "We've been calling her Lily. I've already told you that!"

"How'd you come up with that name?"

"She told us her name was Lily."

"So she does speak?" The detective glanced at Katrina suspiciously.

"Only that one time. When we first pulled her out of that room, actually. She was afraid of us, and afraid that those brothers were alive. She fainted from fear."

Detective Anderson tapped his fingers on his chin, scrutinizing Katrina intently. She refused to look at him, keeping her eyes on her hands. After a few moments passed, he stood up. "If that's all?"

Carly and Nick nodded.

"Will your parents be coming to get you?" the detective asked.

"We aren't sure," Carly admitted. "We haven't been able to get a hold of them."

"I can arrange for a hotel room for the two of you."

"That would be great," Nick said with relief. "What about Lily?"

"I'm going to talk to the St. Anne's director to see if I can get her a bed. You two can visit her there, if you like. It may help get her to talk, if she's talked to you once before. Wait here until I return. Can I bring you back anything?"

"Water, please," Carly answered.

"I'm cool," Nick muttered. "But maybe Lily would like some water too."

Katrina forced her face to remain impassive as she watched the detective leave the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: **_The Darkness_

He felt as if there was nothing around him but a thick, inky darkness that kept pulling him down deeper and deeper into nothing. It was so dark there it almost hurt . . . indeed, it _was _quite painful. Whatever was surrounding him was stifling, pressing down upon every inch of his body, wanting to enter his pores and consume his soul. There was nothing left but the black sensation, plunging him forward into a pit of despair, telling him to give up and submit to its smothering.

But suddenly there was a movement in the dark, something illuminating itself like the patterns he used to see as a child when he pressed his palms to his eyelids very hard. Something that fluttered against his existence, brushed close to his very soul, calling out for him to remember . . .

Something that was begging him to bring forth a memory of something he had once possessed, something dear to his heart that was now lost. Something of great importance.

Then he realized something. He had a name.

Vincent.

His name was Vincent.

The other presence knew this as well. In fact, Vincent was sure it was the one who had reminded him.

He blinked a few times as a white light appeared before him. The light melded together, took shape, and in quite a short time a woman was standing before him. She smiled and he knew who she was.

"Mother."

Trudy Sinclair nodded and looked at her son expectantly. Vincent didn't know what she needed; all he knew was that he wanted her to hold him once again, tightly against her breast as she had done when he was a small child. His mother smiled again, her lips stretching out as her hands reached towards her stomach.

Vincent cried out in dismay when Trudy began to change shape. Her stomach grew larger, her body shrank, and her hair grew long and changed from brown to black. It began to fluff out into curls as her eyes tilted upwards and turned a dark blue.

He remembered what he had lost, why his mother had appeared to remind him.

Katrina.

His Katrina was standing before him, clutching her belly. Holding on to their unborn child. Her mouth opened, she called out to him, but he couldn't hear her voice.

Vincent struggled hard to bring himself out of the darkness.

For a moment it felt like he was swimming, his arms moving frantically to push him towards Katrina, then everything moved through a haze of pain. His eye opened, but instead of Katrina, he was staring up at the blurry face of his older brother. Vincent waited for blurriness to leave his vision, blinking rapidly to try to speed up the process. He forced his weary body to sit up, but was pushed back down again gently.

"Don't yeh dare move, Vince," Lester ordered. "I ain't sewing that shit up again."

Vincent sighed, feeling the pain in his stomach from the stab wound. Suddenly, his eye widened and he jolted up, uncaring that he wrenched the stitches so they cut into his skin. "Katrina."

Lester shook his head and sat down before the wood stove. "That's what I've been needin' to talk to you about, Vincent."

"She . . . she's dead?"

"No."

Vincent let out a sigh of relief. "Where is she?"

Lester pulled a pipe from his pocket, along with a bag of tobacco. He began slowly packing the pipe with an expression on his face Vincent recognized as one his brother used when he had bad news but didn't want to be the bearer of it.

"Just tell me," Vincent insisted.

"What's th' last thing yeh 'member?"

Vincent shut his eye, trying his hardest to remember what exactly had gone on. A vision of a girl with reddish hair and a young man wearing a hoodie passed through his mind. "That girl . . . and her brother. I was trying to kill them."

"Do you 'member why?"

"No."

Lester lit his pipe and began puffing on it.

"I was comin' back t' Ambrose t' see how you three were gettin' along with those teenagers when I smelt smoke. It was already dark then, an' I could see th' fire through them trees . . . for jes a min' I thought Kat burned th' house down or somethin'." He shook his head as if lamenting his stupidity. "I left th' truck up by th' washed out part o' th' road, an' I ran up t' th' house. I could hear Kat up in th' room, screamin' an' bangin' on stuff, but when I saw Ma's wax meltin', I hightailed it there."

A sorrowful look came into his eyes and he stared into the fire. "I couldn'a go in, 'cause it was already meltin'. All I saw . . . was Bo." Lester swallowed hard and flicked some ash out of the pipe. "He was already sinkin'. I didn't know what else t' do, other than run back t' th' house an' try t' go down t' your workshop t' see if I could get 'im." He puffed on the pipe a few times in silence.

"By that time, yeh had already fallen onto Bo, so I went ahead an' waded in there. Bo was already gone. So I was left wit' you."

"I think I remember . . . going into the room and the girl was beating . . . beating Bo with a baseball bat. I remember his face was covered in blood . . ." Vincent closed his eye and took a deep breath. "Bo is really dead?" he asked finally. "And all of Mother's work . . . all my own . . ."

"Yes. Everything's gone."

"And Katrina?"

"Well," Lester began again, "that sister and brother, they were up in th' house when I got you into th' study. So I stayed quiet, jes' tried my best t' keep you alive. I bandaged ya up best I could, an' yeh didn't move an inch. Didn't even make a sound. I waited 'til they left . . . doan look at me like that, Vince. I didn't know if they had any weapons or any shit like that! What if I woulda' gotten killed, huh? Then all us Sinclair's 'ud be dead!"

"Why didn't you try and get Kitty?"

"I jes' tole you! 'Cause I didn't know if they were armed! An' they weren't hurtin' her! If Kitty would'a been screamin' t' high heaven, I'd 'a gone out there, weapon or no. Now do y' wanna hear th' rest, or should I shet up?"

"No. Go on. I'm sorry, Lester."

Lester snorted and took a long puff of his pipe. "Like I was sayin', they got Kat out of 'er room . . . don't know what she was doin' locked up there anyhow . . . an' were on their way into Ambrose. So I pulled you out t' the woods an' hid you there 'fore I went back for Kat. I planned on killin' them two an' grabbin' Kat, but I was too late, Vince. The cops were swarmin' 'round the place like bees on honey. There was no way I could 'ave gotten to 'er."

"You let her get arrested?" Vincent shouted.

Lester shook his head. "She weren't arrested, at least, not when they took her. She left in an amb'lance with those two fuckers. You were bleedin' out, so I went back to you. I made a choice, Vince, an' I'm not 'shamed of it. I had t' carry yer ass all th' way here, 'cause th' cops were searchin' my truck!"

"Do you think they'll know she was helping us? And how do you know for sure she got taken in an ambulance?"

"'Cause I went back, after I was sure ya were gonna make it. It was dawn then an' thankfully all th' police were up at the House of Wax. I drained all th' gas out my truck real quick fore they saw me."

"What the hell for?"

"I need my truck! I had t' make up some excuse fer it bein' there, didn't I? I tole them police that it ran outta gas an' I left it there the day before. They made me turn on th' truck an' show 'em the gas gage on empty, an' t' make it more believable, I showed 'em that plastic tank of gas I keep in th' bed an' tole 'em I had jes walked there with it. They either believed it or they was too busy t' do aught else, 'cause they jest ole me t' move th' damn thing an' get th' hell out. I did it slow, though, an' I saw Kat in that amb'lance when they took 'er away. She looked scared as hell."

"Do you think they know she was helping us?"

"I don't rightly know that. But I do know you, Vince. You'll do everything you can t' find her. An' I jes want you t' know I'll do everything in my power to help you. I love that girl like she was my own sister." He leaned back, musing over his thoughts. "Never thought I'd say it about any girl. But Kat . . . she gets under your skin. She's a loveable bitch, that one. Never once said anything rude or mean t' me like all th' others."

Vincent lay back down, staring up at the ceiling. "What am I going to do? How the hell am I going to find her?"

"That's somethin' we're going to have to figure on for a while, Vince. Best thing t' do is wait 'till your wound heals an' go from there."

"What if Kitty doesn't have that much time?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"What if the police find out who she is? If she's returned to that piece of shit brother of hers? Or if she goes into labor early? Or if she's arrested? How will she support herself and the baby? She _needs_ me . . . now, not later."

Lester chewed thoughtfully on the end of his pipe. "Well, I suppose the best start would be a newspaper."

"A newspaper?"

"Yep. I figure that I can go into Woodston today and get a newspaper. It'll be sure to have somethin' about the fire and all that in there. It may tell what the police have done with Kat. Survivors, and all that shit."

Vincent nodded. "It makes sense. Anyway, it's a start. You should get papers from every town within sixty miles. One of them will have to have something helpful."

Lester nodded. "More'n likely. I'll start out tomorrow."

Vincent shook his head. "No. Start today."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: **_Criminal Treatment_

Nick kicked at a bubblegum wrapper on the floor of the police station and glared at the two policemen and the detective standing in the hall in front of him. They were discussing Lily, he was sure, and he didn't like what was going to happen. He turned to glance back at the black-haired young woman sitting on a bench in the hallway, looking as if she wanted to bolt at any moment. She reminded him of a frightened rabbit, caught in a snare with no way out. His glare softened into an expression of pity and Nick walked over to sit next to her.

"I can't believe they want to stick you in that St. Anne's shit or whatever it is," Nick said quietly, after a long silence. His gaze flickered over at her rounded belly. "I don't believe you would harm your child . . . even if one of those fuckers is the dad."

She said nothing, merely staring down at the white hands in her lap.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," Nick continued, clearing his throat a little and looking embarrassed. "If there was anything I could do to stop it, I would." He sighed and glared over at the detective. "We still can't get in contact with our parents. Isn't there anyone I can call for you? Someone who can come get you so you don't have to go to that fucking place?"

Lily's hands began to tremble and she glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. Nick was surprised to see hatred in their ocean depths, directed towards himself. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry," he told her gently, "I'm sure you must hate all men now." Nick stood up, looking worried. "I'll go get Carly, she'll sit with you."

He turned to go, but was stopped by a soft hand on his wrist. Lily was staring up at him with a look that clearly said Carly was not what she wanted. Nick sat back down; watching as she quickly removed her hand and glared at the wall in front of them. They sat in silence for several long minutes before Detective Anderson approached.

"Nick, we can get you and your sister a motel room until you get in touch with your family."

"What about Lily?" Nick asked, furrowing his brow.

"She's going to St. Anne's," the detective answered, giving the girl a look of pity.

Nick stood up to look the man square in the eye. "It isn't fair to punish her because of what those fuckers did! Why can't you get her a motel room too?"

He felt Lily's eyes on him, confused and angry.

"She's not stable . . ." Detective Anderson began.

"Bullshit. She hasn't done a fucking thing since she's been rescued! There's nothing wrong with her!" Nick glanced down, meeting her ocean blue eyes. "Why can't she stay with us?"

The detective looked skeptical. "I wouldn't advise . . ."

"It isn't fair, detective. Not at all. I think she should stay with me and Carly. We'll take care of her."

Lily stiffened, but her angry gaze changed to one of incredulity. Nick smiled at her, hoping to reassure the girl, and was shocked when he saw a sharp, calculating look flash through her eyes. He blinked, his smile faltering, but as quickly as it was there the look was gone and he was staring into tearful blue orbs.

"Please, Detective?" Carly asked, having walked up in time to hear the conversation. "Nick's right, she's been through enough. Don't you care?"

Detective Anderson pursed his lips. "To tell you the truth, kids, that's not such a bad idea. St. Anne's won't have a bed ready until next week . . . we have an inmate there who is being transferred to prison. We were going to have to keep Lily here in lockup until . . ."

"Then that settles it," said Carly firmly. "She's got to come with us. There's no way I'm going to let you lock her up here like some criminal!"

"She's got you there, Mark," a female policeman said with a grin, walking up and clapping the detective on the back. "Poor kid's got it bad enough, eh?"

"Right, thanks Felicia," Detective Anderson murmured irritably as the woman looked at the teenagers with interest.

Nick let out a visible sigh of relief and smiled down at Lily, hoping to see a look of gratitude but was met with an expressionless mask. He glanced over at his sister, who smiled back at him immediately and the relief at having her . . . all three of them . . . alive after what had happened made him close his eyes with weariness.

"When would it be possible to get to this motel?" Carly was saying, interrupting his thoughts. "I'd just like to sleep for the rest of my life. In a real bed, not a hospital bed."

"It should only take a few minutes to arrange it," Detective Anderson informed them.

"I'll stay with them," Felicia promised.

More than an hour later, Nick was standing in the third-floor room of Mum's Motel and Laundry, a run-down monstrosity on the outskirts of Mead, covered in gaudy Christmas lights and featuring a collection of outrageous birdhouses in its parking lot. Nick took in his surroundings with a look of disgust.

The white and gold wallpaper was peeling, revealing a yellowish-stained color underneath on the walls; the two tiny mattresses on the beds were lopsided and obviously older than they were. There was a tiny, twelve-inch television perched precariously on a small oak table covered with a dingy, ripped doily. A small, rusty-knobbed door led to a grungy bathroom with a cracked claw-foot tub, old-fashioned moldy sink, and a toilet that sounded like Niagara Falls when flushed.

"Well, at least I can pretend I'm out at the ocean when I flush that toilet," Carly said with a twitch at the corners of her lips.

Nick was not amused, and could hardly feel grateful towards Detective Anderson and his partner, Felicia Lincoln, when they dropped the twins and Lily off.

"Ugh . . ." Carly groaned, carefully peeling away the faded, stained coverlet on the bed. "Well, at least the sheets _look _clean."

Nick examined the proffered sheet and made a face. "Smells too much like bleach for anything to live in _those_."

He looked over at Lily, who laid facing away from them on her own bed. Taking a seat on his own cot, Nick exchanged glances with Carly. Twin intuition as well as common sense bade them think the same thought . . . _one of them had to keep watch on Lily_. Nick nodded at his sister, letting her know first watch would be his. Carly nodded back, took one more look at the other girl, and lay down slowly. She sighed as she stretched out, giving in to the weariness that had taken over her body the past several days.

When Carly began snoring quietly, Nick got up and made sure the door was locked before going to stand by the window. Outside, the dwindling sunlight still shone though the cracks in the heavy curtain, still providing enough light for him to see the ugly birdhouses beneath him. Nick sighed and sat back down in his cot, taking up a local newspaper to read for amusement. Lily shifted in her sleep and his eyes flickered upward to stare at the slight curve of her hip, her long, thin legs.

"_Beautiful . . ."_

It wasn't long before his eyes jolted open in surprise. Lily's bed was empty and the door was shutting closed. Nick jumped up and raced to grab the doorknob. Lily stood just outside the door, one hand on her stomach and her gaze on the two policemen sitting on a bench beside the elevators at the end of the hall.

"Where are you going?" Nick asked her, making her jump a little. He followed her train of vision and shrugged. "I guess that's for our protection."

She turned to stare at him slowly, her face crumpling into an expression of agony. Her hands flew to her face and she started to sob, sinking to the floor so helplessly Nick's heart broke to watch her. He was at her side in moments, picking her shuddering body up into his arms and carrying her back into the room.

"Lily, you can talk to me, you know," he whispered, trying not to wake up Carly. Nick set her gently onto the bed and took her hand in his own, watching sadly as she struggled to stop her quiet sobs. She said nothing, so his thumb rubbed her thin hand in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

"I wish I was dead."

Nick jumped and looked at her, startled. "Don't say that, Lily," he said quickly. "Horrible things have happened to all of us, but we still keep living. And you don't want to kill your baby too, do you?" His eyes widened and he smacked his forehead with his hand. "I'm sorry; I forget that . . . unless you _were_ pregnant before they caught you?" He watched her for a moment, hoping to get her to talk. When she didn't answer he began again. "You know, if the father is one of the Sinclair's, Lily, you can always put it up for adoption."

She sat up suddenly, glaring at him with a hatred that sent Nick leaning as far away from her as possible. "I will _never_ allow anyone to harm my baby," she snarled.

"I didn't mean it . . ." Nick watched in trepidation as her eyes became cold and calculating and she scrutinized him.

"The baby is Vincent Sinclair's," she said finally. Her expression set into one of distress. "My poor, poor baby!" And she buried her face into her hands once more.

"Lily . . ." Nick reached out and touched her back, rubbing her shoulder sympathetically. She stiffened but remained where she was. "You can't blame yourself. He raped you." He felt her body become as hard as granite under her touch. She breathed in deeply, as if she were trying to calm herself before looking at him again.

"I want to get out of here," Lily said quietly. "I want to leave this room, these cops, and everything that has happened and just _leave_."

"We can't do that," Nick answered just as quietly. "Not when the police need our information and our backgrounds have checked out. You need to tell them who you are and where you come from so they can help you. Carly and I can't do much for you after we go home."

Lily sat completely still; the only sound coming from her was that of her breath. Finally she looked at him, her expression inscrutable. "Nick, if you get me out of here, I will tell you _everything_. Just get me out."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4: **__The Brother_

A man in his early twenties drained the last dregs from his bottle of beer as he stared at the television. The light from the screen shone around him, revealing a worn couch and filthy floor, covered in dirty laundry and trash. The man got up and went into a dingy, disgusting kitchen, pulling another beer from the outdated refrigerator. He stopped in the doorway leading back into the living room, staring out the front window with an amused expression.

"We have groundbreaking news from the small and little-known town of Ambrose tonight," a blonde, buxom newscaster reported from the television screen. "What used to be the famous Trudy's House of Wax, melted down earlier this week, due to a fire in the basement. KLTV news was unable to bring this story to you as information has, until now, been strictly confidential."

"What we all thought was an abandoned town of Ambrose wasn't really abandoned," the woman was saying. "Bo and Vincent Sinclair, sons of the late Dr. Victor Sinclair and his wife Trudy, the same Trudy of Trudy's House of Wax, apparently still lived in the town. The brothers attacked passerby and murdered them, then encased the bodies in wax. They then placed the bodies about the small town, making a population comprised entirely of wax figurines. The House of Wax burnt down after a group of teenagers were lured into the town, where they had to fight for their lives. Only three teenagers . . . Nicholas and Carly Jones, twins from Florida, and another girl, known only as Lily Doe, who was a prisoner of the sadistic brothers, survived."

The man laughed. "Stupid bullshit," he cursed, ". . . stupid fucking people, not as smart as my Pa, are they? Letting themselves get killed by a bunch of snot-nosed little teenagers." He laughed again.

"Police are searching for any possible family members of Lily Doe, as nothing is known about her life before the Sinclair's. Doctors are worried that the girl, approximately six months pregnant, was raped and brutalized during her stay with the Sinclair brothers. Dr. Anna Lemmings, a psychiatrist at St. Anne's, would like to comment on the girl's condition."

An older woman appeared onscreen, raising an eyebrow at the blonde newscaster as if she wasn't too happy with her introduction.

"Lily may have a condition many victims acquire upon their stay with their kidnappers," Dr. Lemmings said. "She may have been reprogrammed to believe she was a part of the family, probably 'married' to one of the brothers in a forced wedding ceremony as part of their sick fantasy. She has a tattoo across her lower back that says 'Property of Vincent', which is one of the Sinclair brother's names. Or she might have been subjected to such torture and brutalization that she has simply lost her mind in a psychotic break . . ."

The man began to laugh again, hard. He shook his head, waggling a finger at the television. "Stupid fucking bitch," he said menacingly. "That little cunt _wanted_ whatever she got. Just like that little slut . . ." He snarled, fingering his brown goatee. "Katrina, you little whore, when you get home . . ." His fist hit the table next to him, knocking over old magazines and trash as well as his freshly opened beer.

He sat down again into his dingy La-Z-Boy and opened another beer. After taking a swig, he contemplated the woman on television, still ranting about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Psychosis of the Mind. Lighting a cigarette, the man began to laugh again. The smoke went into his lungs and out again before he closed his eyes and began to think.

"_Katrina. She has always been beautiful. Even I can give her that. When she was born, I admit, I loved her. She needed everything from me, and I needed nothing from her. I think I would have protected her, if she would have been the submissive, worshipful little sister type . . . you know, the kind who adored Big Brother and would do anything for him. But when I realized what she was, anything I felt for her was replaced by hate. _

_Katrina . . . little sister-mine._

_My father saw through the bitch too. That's why he beat her. It's why _I_ beat her. She needed it . . . she was so defiant as she sneered at Pa or stared at me with her lip curled like she was one of them Beverly Hills bitches and we weren't nothin' but trailer trash. _

_Motel bums, she called us._

_Pa beat up Mother and killed her, just because of the little ingrate. _

_But I didn't care any. Why should I care about the woman? She loved Katrina much more than me. _

_When the little whore began to grow breasts, her self-importance rose. She had no idea that she was wrong about herself. God had granted her beauty, yes, but the Devil gave her lust. My little sister has always dressed like a hussy. She should have been wearing shit that covered her body, but instead she wore halter tops and little shorts that showed everything. We starved her, trying to shrink her body so her breasts and buttocks would not show as much. But somehow, even as thin as she was, she still attracted men like moths to a flame. _

_She said she was still a virgin. _

_Father would ask her every day if she had been disgraced._

_She denied it, but we knew she was lying. She walked and even talked like a whore. An experienced whore. She talked to us in the same language she must have used with her customers._

_Cool this and freaky that. _

_Words she should have been ashamed to use."_

He laughed again and downed the rest of the beer before reaching into a bag and taking another.

"_Stupid little whore. I remember when she was three, and wearing that little polka-dot pink and white bikini. Dad beat the living shit out of Ma for letting her wear it, outside in that little plastic pool where everyone could see her. Made Ma do twenty Acts of Contrition and give him head besides. Ha. The way a woman should be treated. The way they were meant to be treated. Stupid little whore Katrina, fucking it all up."_

He threw the bottle against the wall and it smashed with a grating sound that made him smile.

"_Dad took her to the shed and beat her for that transgression. Prancing around in a bikini! And when she got older, that bitch wearing those pants that were so tight around her ass . . . such a siren call for the Devil!"_

The man stood up and walked over to a broken mirror across the room, staring at his bloodshot blue eyes and dark brown hair, greasy against his pale skin.

"_How could Ma forget that I was the man, her firstborn, more precious than that little slut? How could she? I'm glad Pa raped her and killed her, showed her the place God meant for her before she died! Her brains falling out against the wall was the best music to my ears I've heard for fuckin' . . . well, the best time of my life. The bitch. Liking that little devil-whore more than me, her own son, Robert Roseau!"_

Robert punched the mirror, sending a million broken shards of glass to the floor in an instant. He smiled, watching a trickle of blood pour from his newly cut foot onto the ground in a spray of scarlet.

He began to pace the faded yellow and blue carpet, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "That fuckin' whore!" he shouted finally. "How dare she run away like this!" His restless eyes settled onto a picture of his father holding Katrina when she was two years old, the father's curled lip and the daughter's expression of disgust even at that early age was too hard to bear.

"Fucking bitch!" he shouted, grabbing the picture and throwing it across the room. Robert pursed his lips and began to think hard, sitting down upon his cushion with a look of utmost concentration. He smiled as he thought of the many ways he would punish the girl.

When he found her, he would make her pay.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5: **__Lily Mason_

Katrina, chewing on a fingernail, watched in trepidation as Nick spoke quietly to his sister. She had no doubt that Carly would be suspicious of her. Something in her mind told her not to underestimate Carly Jones. As if to prove her theory, Carly glanced at Katrina with a wary look in her eyes and her mouth set into a stubborn line.

Katrina sighed and tried to look innocent.

She had no doubt of Nick's loyalty. Having ascertained his infatuation with her back at the sheriff's office, his current behavior only proved it. She bit her lips to stifle a smile.

"_I can't believe boys. They're so gullible, so ready to be your slave if you act like a sex kitten or a mysterious, pathetic, teary-eyed girlie-girl. Except Bo," _she thought with a grimace of pain, her eyes filling with tears. _"He would never be anyone's slave."_ Balling her fists in fury, Katrina looked up to see Carly gazing her way, her eyes suspicious. It was all she could do not to leap at the girl and tear her to pieces. She forced her eyes down to look at her lap.

"_Okay, Katrina focus. Remember the plan. Get out of here, find some way to get away from the twins . . ."_ She froze and allowed herself a tiny smirk. Forcing tears into her eyes, Katrina looked up at the brother-sister duo and tried to look pathetic.

"I'm doing it, Carly, and that's final!" Nick said loud enough for her to hear.

"I just don't think leaving before the police are done with us is the best thing to do," Carly whispered, the agitation in her voice making her voice crack.

Katrina watched as Nick leaned in closer to his sister, talking to her too quietly to be heard, while Carly shook her head vigorously.

"_Getting rid of the girl would make things a lot easier," _she nodded to herself, returning to her original thought. _"I may be able to use Nick . . . at least to find Lester. Then we can kill him." _

"Lily!" Carly shouted, shaking her from her thoughts.

Katrina looked up, forcing a mask of anxiety onto her face.

"If you can talk, why can't you just get the police to call your family and they'll let you go?" Carly asked angrily. "Why do you need to sneak out of here? Do you know how much trouble we'd get into if we all just _left_?"

"Carly, don't yell at her!" Nick shouted back. "You don't know what's happened to her!"

"Yeah," Carly snarled, turning on him with her hands on her hips. "Neither do you. She won't tell you _why_ she wants to just up and go, just that she _wants_ to."

"Carly . . ." Nick began, but Katrina stopped him.

She stood up and drew in a deep breath, preparing for one of the biggest lies of her life. The thought of what she was going to say caused her so much pain that forcing tears out wasn't needed. They overflowed of their own accord.

"_Vincent . . ."_

"I have no family. Those . . . those Sinclair monsters killed them."

Carly's breath came out in a loud _whoosh_ as she sat down on the bed. "I'm sorry? What?"

Cursing the girl in her mind for what she was about to say, Katrina tightened her jaw and began.

"My name is Lily Mason. My family and I are from North Carolina. We were moving here to Mead. Daddy got lost . . ." She choked and covered her face, repressing an inescapable laugh at the thought of her father dying at her own hands. Praying they thought she was sobbing, Katrina looked back up again.

"The . . . the Sinclair brothers murdered my whole family in front of me. My daddy, my pregnant mom, and my little brother."

"Oh my God, Lily," Carly cried, her face red with embarrassment. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to . . ."

"Just shut up, Carly, and listen," Nick ordered, looking at Katrina with compassion.

She fought back the urge to squeeze the girl's neck until her face turned black. "After that, both the brothers . . . well, they . . . they raped me. A lot. Every day and every night. Sometimes both at once." A tiny shudder rippled through her back, her lips drew tight into a little line. "That's how I got pregnant. They were going to kill me and the baby and make us into wax statues."

"So, why can't you tell the police this, Lily?" Carly asked. "They'll help you, you know."

Katrina shook her head, marveling at the girl's seemingly lightning-fast mood swings. "You heard them. They think I'm crazy. They want to take my baby away and put it up for adoption. And they want to put me in a mental ward!"

"But if you explained . . . let them see you can talk . . ." Carly began.

"And then what? If they don't change their mind about me, what can I do?"

"Do you have any other family, or maybe some friends you can call?" Nick asked before Carly could retort.

"No. My grandparents are all dead and my dad was an only child. Mom's sister died in a car accident when I was five." Katrina checked herself, not wanting to give out too many details about her "life". She wasn't sure if she would remember exactly what she told them, if they decided to ask her about it later. At the same time, she wanted to make it sound believable. She bit her lip.

"Why don't you want to put the baby up for adoption anyway?" Carly asked curiously. "How could you live with that everyday reminder of the Sinclairs?"

Pain, heart-wrenching, gut-twisting pain made Katrina sway on the spot. She forced herself to sit, to grip the arms of the chair, to look at the floor . . . anything to keep from ripping the girl's heart out with her bare hands.

"_The everyday reminder of the Sinclairs. The everyday reminder of the Sinclairs. My baby, all I have left . . ."_ She bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

"Lily!" Nick cried, running for a cold, wet towel. "Lean back, put this on your face."

"Is she fainting?" Carly asked anxiously. "Should I call . . ."

Katrina shook her head violently. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus. The cold towel covering her face helped tremendously, to her surprise. She felt a little gratitude towards Nick and just as quickly fought against the thought angrily. Breathing in deep, Katrina lifted the towel.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not trusting herself to speak any louder. "I'm just so worried." She couldn't help glaring at Carly. "And to answer you, just because the baby is half Sinclair, does that mean it's not half _mine_? It's coming out of _my_ body, isn't it? Should I blame the baby for its parentage, and throw it into Child Protective Services, or keep the one beautiful thing that came out of that . . ." she forced herself to say the word ". . . hell?"

Nick was staring at her with an expression of pity and admiration. Carly's mouth opened and shut, her face turning bright pink.

"I'm not saying . . . of course you'd . . . I'm sorry."

Katrina shrugged. "I will love my baby. And I want to be the one to take care of it." She bit the insides of her cheeks and held her hand out to Carly. "Please, please help me get away from here. You don't even have to be involved. Just let me go, without telling on me."

Carly stared at the pale hand in front of her for several moments before heaving a great sigh and turning away, ignoring the proffered hand. "Let me think about it." She got up off the bed and stormed into the bathroom.

Katrina looked at Nick. "Will she . . ."

He frowned. "I'm not sure, Lily. But . . ." He knelt beside her and took her hand.

She flinched minutely and closed her eyes, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Nick said quickly, removing his hand. "I don't mean to upset you. I just want to let you know that I'll do anything to help you. I promise."

Katrina peered up through her eyelashes at him, noting the concern in his handsome eyes. "But if she will let the cops know . . ."

"Don't worry," he replied, lowering his voice. His hot breath tickled her ear. "I'll find a way. Even if I have to leave her for a bit, I'll get you out of this hotel."

She lowered her gaze and nodded. _"It would be easier if that bitch would help. You're not fucking Superman, you bastard." _

"Thank you, Nick," she whispered aloud, reaching a trembling hand to touch his arm.

Goosebumps appeared around the area she had touched and she stifled a grin.

"_Easy prey."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: **_A Plan_

"Why do they keep calling her Lily Doe?" Vincent snarled as he threw _The Mason Gazette_ into the fireplace. The motion strained the stitches on his wound and he grimaced before glaring at Lester.

"I dunno, Vince," Lester said calmly, squinting as he tried to read from his own newspaper. "I thought they would 'a called her Jane Doe. Ain't that the proper name for someone that they don't know?"

Vincent stood up and began to pace the rotting wood floors. "I just don't get it, Lester. If Kitty gave them an alias, wouldn't she have had the sense to come up with a better surname?"

"Yer just tired, is all. Yer comin' up wi' shit that ain't needful to worry about," Lester complained. "What we need is ter figger out 'ow t' get 'er back. I cain't do it. Th' cops already seen me, so I cain't just walk up there an' tell 'em she's my sister. Hey boys, 'member me? Well that's my bitty sister you got there! Cain't I 'ave 'er back now, pretty please?"

This bit of sarcasm earned Lester a glare from his brother. It had initially been his . . . Vincent's . . . idea for Lester to go to the police and just ask for Katrina. Of course, drinking copious amounts of alcohol to numb the pain of his wound hadn't had him thinking straight.

"Jes' calm down now, Vince, an' lets start thinkin' seriously 'bout all this. I mean, 'ow do we know they ain't jes' going to let 'er go? She'll be back 'ere in no time flat the second she can."

Vincent shook her head. "They would have already released her."

Lester shrugged and returned to his paper. Vincent began pacing the floor again.

"Well now, lookee 'ere, Vince!" Lester crowed only moments later, pointing down at the newspaper with a look of glee.

Vincent hurried over and ripped the paper from his brother's hands. "Detective Mark Anderson gave a statement about the condition of the Ambrose Wax Museum victims yesterday afternoon," he read. "He told reporters that all three were in stable condition and have been released from the Mead Hospital. Although initially, pregnant Lily Doe was to have gone to St. Anne's Mental Hospital for evaluation, Detective Anderson tells us that the survivors chose to remain together for the present. For now, all three remain safe in protective custody in a location undisclosed to the public."

The brothers stared at each other incredulously.

"The survivors chose to remain together?" Vincent shouted. "What does that mean?" The thought of his Katrina in close contact with the people responsible for Bo's death made him seethe with rage.

"Seems like it means they're all together, Vince."

"Shut up, Lester, I know that!" Vincent shouted. "But _why_ would Kitty _choose_ to be with them? She's got to know what they've done!"

"Well now, I don't know 'bout that," Lester said thoughtfully. "She knew they were t' be victims. And if she don't know the House of Wax is gone and done for then she's blind an' stupid. But you gotta 'member, Vince, that she don't know what 'appened t' you or Bo. She was locked up in 'er room, 'member?"

Vincent's brow furrowed. "That's right, she doesn't know if I'm alive or dead. Maybe she's trying to find out from those two."

"Surely yew don't think she's butterin' up to 'em?"

Vincent scowled. Years of having absolutely no confidence in himself still made his first reaction one of doubt. He hated the fact that he always felt Katrina would want someone better than an older, deformed man, but he couldn't control his thoughts.

"No," he replied hastily.

Lester grinned, showing brown, crooked teeth. "I 'ope not, Vince, 'cause if anything, she's thinkin' of a way to do 'em in, knowing bitty Kitty like I do."

Relief washed over Vincent like a tide of water and he smiled. "You're right, of course."

"Of course."

They were silent for a few moments before Vincent spoke up again.

"What if we telephoned them?"

Lester looked up with a confused expression. "'Phoned who?"

"The police. We can always pretend to be Kitty's brother."

Lester stared incredulously. "Naw, Vince, they'll wanna know all sorts of stuff. 'Sides . . ." His voice trailed off as his eyes widened.

"What?" Vincent asked, glancing around him.

Lester remained silent, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"I got it."

"Damn it, Lester, what the hell do you mean?" Vincent shouted.

"'Member Bo's contact, Jason Hardy?"

Vincent shrugged. "Never met him. Bo never brought him around."

"What if we git 'im to be Kitty's brother?"

The same grin began to spread across Vincent's face. "Do you think he would? Wait . . . Katrina won't recognize him. What if she gives him away? What if she's told the cops her brother was dead or something?"

Lester shrugged. "I can't think of nothin' else that would work. Or mebbe 'e can be Kitty's Pa. I dunno. I'm jes thinkin'."

Vincent began to pace the room. "I don't know. It seems too risky." He grasped handfuls of his hair and pulled hard. "I just don't know!"

"Calm down, Vince."

"How can you say that? What are we going to do? We have no plan, no way of finding out where the hell Kitty is, and no way to get her if we did!" He turned around and punched the wall, then immediately wished he hadn't. "Owww . . ."

"Yer gonna rip yer stitches," Lester commented. "Sit down an' shet up, Vince. I think we're goin' 'bout this all wrong. Why don't we give Jason a holler and see if he'll watch the cops. Maybe he can find out where they're stashin' Kitty. Then we can go from there, all right?"

Vincent sank into a chair, mumbling curses underneath his breath. "I guess that's the plan then. Call him _now_, Lester."


End file.
